


I need an Oral Fix(ation)

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bisexual Female Character, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dominant Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Has a Big Dick, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, Humiliation, Injury Recovery, M/M, Richie Tozier Cries During Sex, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Richie Tozier just wants to suck Eddie Kaspbrak's dick. He's ashamed of it. And that's part of the problem.
Relationships: Audra Phillips & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98
Collections: Clowntown Kink Meme 2021





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [clowntown2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/clowntown2021) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Richie's past means that whether he likes it or not, he associates wanting to suck dick with it being degrading, perverse, and wrong -- and at this point, he kind of gets off on that, not that he's eager to admit it. Eddie and Richie are not together, but Richie really wants to suck Eddie's cock to the point where he's obsessing over how much he wants to. But Richie feels like he's being too intense, and thinks Eddie would be disgusted by how aroused Richie is at the idea. Richie tries to hide it, but Eddie finds out (not through Richie offering the information directly, please, but through something like accidental eavesdropping or reading it by accident, or guessing that something is up). Cue consensual humiliation around Richie's inability to control his desire for Eddie. (40-year-old Reddie only, please.)

The bouncer at the dingy bar didn’t even bother asking Richie for his (fake) ID. The place probably had many other, more pressing illegal activities to keep under wraps to truly care about some underage drinking. Not that Richie was there to drink anyways.

Richie’s set brought some laughs and he wasn’t booed off the stage. It wasn’t exactly as glamourous as he had imagined before coming to LA, but tonight he was going to take the reaction as a win.

Richie slumped off of the dingy stage in the corner of the bar. The lights were too dirty to properly cast light but they sure had managed to make him sweat. He felt gross and slimy; similar to what he expected most of the patrons felt like. LA was a place that seemed expressly designed to produce the stickiest, most disgusting people. Richie tried not to breathe too heavily, a technique he was well versed in from his daily commutes on the public busses to his job waiting tables at a greasy breakfast joint. Richie hadn’t taken in a full breath of air in months.

Richie gripped the rusted handle to the bathroom door and slipped inside. The lighting was dim. Perhaps to maintain the ambience of the bar, perhaps to keep anyone from looking too closely.

Richie pissed as efficiently as he could, his shoes sticking to the beige tile as he stepped away. He stopped at the sink to wash his hands. The soap dispenser was empty.

“Disgusting,” said a voice in his head. It was not his own voice and for a second it seemed familiar before it slipped his mind. He washed his hands with the hottest water he could get from the tap.

The door creaked open behind him and Richie looked up into the mirror to see a man in an ill-fitting suit step into the cramped space.

“Nice set out there,” the man said. He had a long, unlined face and a receding hairline. Either the man was young and unlucky in the hair department or he was old and rich enough to afford fillers. This was not an uncommon state for a man living in LA to be in. Maybe Richie would write a bit about it for his next show.

“Thank you,” Richie said to the man, hands still uselessly scrubbing at his reddening skin. The man was handsome, in an older sort of way; a bit damp looking.

The man didn’t turn to use the urinal or the single stall, slanting heavily to one side. The man smiled and something in Richie’s stomach clenched. The man’s face was handsome but something about his smile felt hungry.

“I know a guy,” the man continued. “Steve. He manages comedians. I can give you his number.”

Richie blinked into the mirror. His face looked odd in his shock, his bones standing out at angles that didn’t quite look like him.

“Yes please,” Richie choked out. His face was warm in a different way to the general heat of the city, blood flowing around his body for what felt like the first time in weeks. He turned to face the man in the suit. He was shorter than he had looked in the mirror, looming over Richie, dangling the future he was so desperate for. He had a fancy watch and fancy shoes. Richie didn’t know enough to know if they were real or not but they made the man look powerful. In that moment Richie felt stretched out, too long and sharp for the tiny room and the tiny man.

The man stepped closer. He pulled a notepad out of his back pocket. It had a pen clipped to the curving rings. He scribbled a phone number, his handwriting cramped and neat, and ripped the page off, handing it to Richie. Richie folded the note and stuffed it into his wallet, terrified to lose this treasure that the man handed over so casually.

“Thank you,” Richie said again, mentally kicking himself. You’re a comedian dumbass, the whole point of you is to be able to talk.

“No problem kid,” said the bearer of Richie’s dreams. “Hey. How old are you?”

Richie considered his answer for a second and decided to tell the truth. “20,” he said. “Don’t narc on me dude, I’m only here to make the people laugh.”

The man did laugh. “Don’t worry,” he said. He reached up to tuck a limp curl of Richie’s hair behind his ear, his thumb brushing across Richie’s cheekbone like the soft body of a bee on a flower petal. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Richie wasn’t sure what secret of the man’s he wasn’t supposed to tell. Was he not supposed to be giving out this Steve guy’s number? The man’s fingers lingered on his face, brushing over Richie’s lips so faintly that if felt more like a faint breeze than physical contact. It clicked for Richie then, what the man didn’t want him to tell about. Men really weren’t supposed to stroke each other’s face in bar bathrooms. The man’s face was hungry in a way Richie had never seen on any face but his own. Richie felt shame pooling deep in his gut under the man’s gaze. He also felt a tingling pleasure coating the surface of his skin. It was maybe the first time Richie had felt good offstage in months.

“I’m no snitch,” Richie said, his voice breathier than he had intended. He sounded like one of those ladies in old black and white movies, the ones who would faint at the caress of a man.

The man turned, flipping the latch on the bathroom door, locking out the rest of the bar. He placed his hands on Richie’s shoulders.

Richie had heard the story of Atlas in high school. Richie had thought that, what with carrying his secret around with him every day, that maybe he knew what it felt like to hold up the sky without crumbling. Now the added weight of the stranger’s hands on his shoulders caused his knees to fold under him and the next thing he knew he was kneeling on the floor, the knees of his jeans plastered to the linoleum. Richie’s fingers fumbled with the man’s fly, desperate to see, for a chance to look and not have to worry about whether he was allowed. His mouth was watering. The shame in his gut roiled at his neediness, causing his dick fill.

The man’s cock was large, almost twice as long as Richie’s, and thick. Richie knew that he used to sneak candy out of the kitchen cabinets as a boy. The feeling of looking at this man’s cock was similar to that feeling, the want almost unbearable, the illicit act making his desire stronger.

Richie licked at the tip of the man’s cock. It tasted like sweaty skin, like when he licked his arm in a last ditch effort to cool down in his air conditioning-less apartment. The man had probably been walking around in this suit, in the LA heat, all day. Richie squirmed at the idea. Richie began to suck on the head of the stranger’s dick, glancing up to meet his approving eyes. He slid down further, reveling in the weight of the cock on his tongue, his lips spread wide around it’s girth. He couldn’t take the dick all the way down to the root like he wanted, but the man’s stifled moans indicated that he was doing a pretty good job.

The man’s hands threaded through Richie’s mop of hair and tugged, guiding Richie up and down on his cock. Richie could feel his face flush at the treatment. It wasn’t rough, but the idea of the man using him for his own pleasure made Richie’s cock pulse.

Richie moved with the man’s guidance and sucked hard, rubbing his tongue on the underside as best he could. It was hard to maneuver with so little space left in his mouth.

“God it’s like you were made for this,” the man groaned. His eyes were locked on Richie’s face. Richie had never thought of his face as nice to look at before. But clearly something changed as soon as he got his mouth stuffed full of dick. He felt a strange tussle of shame and pride that went straight to his dick. He rubbed at his dick through the fabric of his jeans. It felt good, but it had nothing on the sensation in his mouth. The steady slide of flesh on his tender lips, the faint pain as he gagged on the deeper thrusts. Richie didn’t know if mouths could have orgasms, but if they could he was at serious risk.

The pace of the man’s hips began to speed up, his breaths huffed out into the grungy bathroom air. Richie closed his eyes, focusing on doing his best to please the stranger, sucking and moaning – like a whore, his brain supplied. Richie wriggled and his hips bucked up as he came hard in his jeans. His body went limp, only held up by the man’s grip in his hair. The man fucked into Richie’s lax throat to the root a few more times and then pulled out, cumming in thick spurts across Richie’s face, streaking his glasses with white.

The man let go of Richie’s hair and Richie slumped to the floor, not even thinking about how dirty it was. He was dirty now too. The man grinned down at Richie.

“You’ll do good in showbiz kid,” he said, his eyes raking over Richie’s disheveled form. He tucked himself back into his pants, unlocked the bathroom door, and walked out at a brisk trot.

Richie sat up slowly. His whole mouth tingled and the cum was starting to dry on his skin, both on his face and in his pants. He pulled himself up in a daze and did his best to was the cum off of his glasses and face. Some of his hair still looked crackly from it but he thought that it might pass as hair gel. Richie’s lips were swollen and red, his cheeks an equally bright colour. His hair was a mess, but that wasn’t exactly new. He wondered how many people in the bar would look at him and immediately think, “He just sucked a dick.” His face heated at the thought, the shame in his gut blossoming to encompass his entire body.

Richie managed to get back to his LA apartment with few people taking a second glance at him. He called the guy named Steve and met up to run his tight five. The hunger that he had felt first with the bathroom stranger never left him. Hunger for dick and also for the humiliation the experience had provided. Richie took every opportunity he could to get on he’s knees for a man, just to feel that shame creature stir spread itself out across his body. He got a part time job at an adult entertainment store to support his comedy until it took off. There was a crappy little bathroom at the back of the store and his boss paid him extra the days that he sat on the other side of the glory hole and took the proffered cocks. Richie would have done it with no extra pay, hell he would have done it for free.

Eventually, the sheer number of back alley and bar bathroom blowjobs he gave cemented the link between a mouth full of cock and Richie’s own dirtiness. So, when Richie remembered Eddie Kaspbrak, the first person Richie ever wanted to be dirty for, standing in a crappy little restaurant, Richie knew he was absolutely screwed.


	2. To be a third thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes awkwardness can lead to some sexy times

Richie had never expected to move to New York. He didn’t particularly like LA but, in truth, he didn’t particularly like anywhere. He had been lonely and ashamed in hotels all over the world. Suddenly discovering six old friends who loved him, plus Patty and Audra, changed a lot. Eddie was getting a divorce in the state of New York and healing from his nearly moral wound and he had needed someone to help him out. Richie had jumped at the opportunity.

Richie was beginning to regret his affinity for split second decisions.

Every second with Eddie felt like the most glorious of torture. Their lives seemed to fit so well together. They would turn on the same shows to make fun of loudly over Richie’s home cooked meals or Indian take-out from the little restaurant across the street. Eddie would shove his icy feet in Richie’s face while they lounged on the couch, and Richie would rub the circulation back into them while doing the voice of a distinguished manservant.

Richie also had the (mis)fortune of helping Eddie change. They had installed a bar next to the toilet and a special chair in the shower so at least he could avoid those situations. Every time Richie had to peel of Eddie’s sweatpants, he felt the dormant shame creature stir restlessly. Richie would hum something soothing, praying it would not awake. Richie would stare around the room, eyelids pressed wide, taking in the clean, modern design. He’d remind himself that he wasn’t in some crappy bathroom or the back of a rented limo. This was their home. There was nothing farther from dirt and sickness than Eddie Kaspbrak. I didn’t always help.

Another tragedy of circumstance was Eddie’s new affinity for loungewear. It was true that nothing got Richie’s face heating faster than the idea of kneeling in front of a suited Eddie in his fancy Gucci loafers, but the ease of access afforded by Eddie’s sweatpants all but made up for the loss. Richie would catch himself staring at the fabric, wrinkled around Eddie’s crotch, and wonder which wrinkle was caused not by the bunching of fabric, but by the outline of Eddie’s dick.

“Don’t forget to drink water!” Eddie yelled from the living room as Richie slumped into the kitchen. Getting Richie to drink was Eddie’s newest kick. Richie figured it was making up for the amount Eddie made his mouth water, how much he made him sweat. Richie did as he was told and poured himself a tall glass of water. He chugged it as he entered their living room. Eddie was sprawled in front of the TV, stuffing his face with leftover curry. Kim Kardashian was crying on screen.

“I have an appointment today,” Eddie said, mouth full. “Can you help me change before I go?”

“Of course Eds,” Richie choked out. Water sprayed across the hardwood floor. Richie turned to get a towel.

When he returned Eddie was entranced by what appeared to be a full family fight, he missed his mouth with his next forkful of food and dropped a dollop of the orange sauce on the crotch of his pants. Richie pictured burying his face in Eddie’s lap and sucking the sauce out of the fabric. He shook his head like a dog to dispel the picture and scuttled back to his room to jerk off.

After helping Eddie change into a suit and helping him into his motorized chair Eddie finally left the apartment. Richie had nearly died doing up Eddie’s belt and had covered up this fact by nervously mocking Eddie for wearing fancy clothes to the doctor.

“What’s the point of getting all dressed up if you’re just gonna have to take them off again anyways?”

“Is that why all your dates are failures, Trashmouth?” Eddie had spit back, his face splitting into a self-satisfied grin.

Ben had offered to drive Eddie to his appointment, so now Richie had the apartment to himself. He pulled up Audra’s number on FaceTime.

“Hey, Bitch!” Audra yelled into the phone. She was lounging in what appeared to be fur lined pajamas in her trailer. Richie couldn’t remember the name of the movie she was shooting but he knew it had something to do with pirates. Audra’s hair was all coiled on top of her head in uncomfortable looking ringlets.

Despite their pending divorce, Audra had become fast friends with Bill’s friends quite quickly. Richie and her called frequently and were going to be in a summer blockbuster together.

Audra complained for a while about the scheduling of the film she was on set for and Richie tested out some new materials he’d written that week. Audra’s screeching laughter expanded like a balloon inside his chest.

Richie knew that if he had met Audra ten years earlier he would have convinced himself rather easily that he was in love with her. She was beautiful by anyone’s standards - as well as intelligent and charming. Most of all she made Richie feel good about himself in a way even the Losers couldn’t do. Richie had spent his whole life with the knowledge that he had to be masculine to get by. He had his manly personality and his shameful personality - the one that sucked men off through a hole in the wall and loved to feel powerless. With Audra, Richie felt like he was allowed a third option. He could let himself be stereotypical or dramatic or anything that he had always perceived as sissy or embarrassing. Audra had, in a moment of softness, confessed that Richie made her feel comfortable enough to stop being serious all the time and to let herself be silly without feeling she was worth less because of it.

Richie knew that all the Losers knew about his love for Eddie. They did not, however, know anything about what Audra referred to as his oral fixation.

“Y’know what?” Audra was saying, her face having drifted to the bottom third of the frame. “I think I might understand this oral fixation business. Jenny uncrossed and re-crossed her legs at a cast dinner last night and I wanted to fucking DROWN myself, if you catch my drift.”

Richie made a peace sign and waggled his tongue salaciously between his spread fingers, raising and lowering his eyebrows dramatically to indicate that he understood. Audra scream laughed again, her head dropping even lower in the frame as she slid in her lounge chair.

“Honestly,” Richie chuckled. “Aren’t we a pair? Yesterday Eddie wore yoga pants. I never wanted to choke to death so bad in my LIFE. And a few days ago he called me dirty. I swear to god I almost jizzed right there in my pants. I’m like sir, please kick me in the gut and use my mouth like a fleshlight.” Audra snorted and toppled entirely out of the frame. Richie beamed.

“Um…” came a voice that didn’t really sound like Audra. It wasn’t coming from Richie’s phone either. In fact, it was coming from the general vicinity of the apartment door.

Richie turned around in slow motion, his eye’s tracking to where Eddie was standing, leaning heavily on a walker, his jaw hanging close to his chest and his eyebrows approaching his hairline.

“Oh,” Richie said in the smallest voice he had ever done. Audra popped back up into the screen, red faced and a smile still dancing in her eyes.

Richie kicked himself into gear, standing up, unsure whether to approach Eddie or run away to his room. Eddie stood between him and the door so running away forever was not a feasible option.

“You finally were cleared to walk?” Richie asked. He wondered if he changed the subject if Eddie would forget about what he had just overheard.

“Yeah, uh,” Eddie said. “They said I’m making good progress. Was that a bit you were just doing or?”

Richie flushed. He had felt embarrassment and shame in his life more than most, but this was an entirely new level. Richie was glad for the couch in between them that hid his quickly rising cock from Eddie’s view. Apparently Richie’s dick did not care that his life was almost certainly ruined. It was like Pavlov’s dog, as soon as the shame beast awoke and rung a bell Richie’s cock would salivate. Bad metaphor, Richie, he told himself. He felt a little bit deranged.

“ByeAudragottago,” Richie forced out. He jammed his shaking finger at the red button before she could respond and then dropped his phone onto the couch.

“Did you mean what you said, Richie?” Eddie repeated, his voice calm despite his piercing stare.

The shame creature twisted sharply inside Richie, hungry for more.

“Yes,” Richie said, giving in to the beast’s desire. His whole body shook.

Eddie walked purposefully around the couch, sitting down slowly. He didn’t say a word until he was seated comfortably.

“Okay then. Get on your knees.”

Richie’s knees were pressing into their freshly vacuumed carpet in seconds. Eddie unbuckled his belt and tugged his dress pants and underpants and little down his thighs, freeing his cock. Richie stared, entranced.

Eddie cupped Richie’s cheek gently and said, “Come on dirty boy, aren’t you just dying for some cock.”

Richie felt like he was blacking out as he rubbed his face against Eddie’s crotch, a whine building in his chest. Richie couldn’t think of a time he had ever been this hard. He opened his mouth, licking up the precum that covered Eddie’s cock and nipping lightly at the skin around the base. Eddie grunted softly above him, his hands flexing on Richie’s shoulders. Richie grinned against Eddie’s skin. If there was one thing he was great at it was sucking cock and he was determined to give Eddie the best blowjob of his life.

Richie sucked the tip of Eddie’s cock into his mouth, the salty taste of his precum made Richie’s skin tingle. Eddie had always been such a clean person, the fact that he got so wet made the experience so much dirtier, made Richie, whose face was already sticky with it mixed with his own saliva, so much dirtier. Richie slid his tongue around the head, teasing at the hole and sliding under Eddie’s foreskin. He rubbed the flat of his tongue on the glans, dragging a moan from Eddie. Richie looked up to watch his face as he sucked and teased. Eddie’s eyelashes were fluttering and his mouth was slack with pleasure. Richie squirmed as his cock twitched in his jeans.

Eddie’s cock was honestly perfect. It was honestly twice the length of Richie’s and thick too, which seemed a little unfair. Richie reveled in the way it stretched his lips as he began to bob his head, taking more and more into his mouth.   
“Oh fuck! You’re so good for me Richie. You’re a fucking pro at sucking cock,” Eddie moaned, his hips twitching up as Richie sped up his pace.

“I bet you spent so much time sucking dick to get this good, huh?” Eddie gasped out, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. “How many strangers have had their cocks in you? I bet you just love being used. Fuck! I bet you’ll debase yourself just about anywhere for a taste of some cock.”

Richie whined as Eddie fed the shame creature. He had never felt it this strong and his hands moved from Eddie’s thighs so that he could rub himself.

“Don’t you dare. You’re here to suck MY dick and make ME cum, Rich.”

Richie returned his hands to Eddie’s thighs, gripping hard as he pulled himself down on the cock that Richie thought he might never get enough of. He was taking so much down his throat that his eyes were watering and spit dripped out of his mouth and onto Eddie’s pubes. He made sure to suck hard as he worked, his mouth getting sore from the fullness and the suction. Richie’s lips felt tender from the work of holding Eddie tightly between them and his tongue muscle ached from rubbing hard at the bottom of Eddie’s cock and from teasing the tip on each upstroke. Richie felt like his whole body was focused and intent on Eddie’s cock and the muscles in his gut spasmed in arousal, unable to experience any friction.

Eddie was moaning loudly above him, his head flung back over the back of the couch. He brought his hands to Richie’s hair and began to tug, fucking Richie’s face down roughly onto his cock, still unable to move his hips much. Richie choked, but forced himself to relax as Eddie controlled the pace, the repetitive friction in his throat making his head begin to feel hollow and fizzy. Richie dug his nails into Eddie’s thighs, eliciting an even louder groan from above him. Richie filed that away in his barely functioning brain.

“You look so pretty like this Richie,” Eddie groaned. His voice was lower than Richie had ever heard it. “You were just made for cock, weren’t you? You’re so fucking filthy. I bet you’ll love it when I cum down your throat.”

The shame creature writhed harder inside Richie, his cock twitching painfully inside his pants.

Eddie tugged harder on Richie’s hair, speeding up the pace.

“Holy FUCK Richie. You’re such a fucking slut for this,” Eddie spit out, his voice hungry and thick. The shame creature expanded in Richie, tugging him apart, and Richie came in his pants, his moan muffled around Eddie’s cock.

“Oh shit, Rich. Did you just cum untouched from sucking cock?” Eddie pressed down hard on the back of Richie’s head, forcing Richie to keep his cock deep in his throat as Eddie came in hot spurts, his thighs tensing under Richie’s hands.

Finally, as Richie’s vision was starting to go fuzzy around the edges, Eddie pulled Richie off and stared at him. Richie knew he looked like a mess and part of him wanted to hide, but Eddie looked at him with blinding adoration, as if Richie had hung the starts for him and then pointed out which constellations were dick shaped.

“I love you,” Richie croaked out.

“I love you too,” Eddie said, his voice impossibly sweet. Eddie gently tugged Richie up onto the couch with him so that they lay chest to chest. He cupped Richie’s face again and kissed him tenderly. Richie pulled back/

“But Eds, I just sucked out off. I’m all dirty,” Richie said.

“You’re never dirty to me,” Eddie said, tugging him back into a deeper kiss, his lips unbearably soft against Richie’s swollen mouth. Richie felt the shame creature curl back up inside him and drift off. Sure it made him feel good sometimes, but right now he was allowed to be a third thing. With Eddie. 


End file.
